


the time slipped through my hands

by phantomfantaaa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Pining, Timeskip, i maybe have a thing for hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26489950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomfantaaa/pseuds/phantomfantaaa
Summary: Hinata feels like he’s flying—no, he’s frozen in mid-air. He doesn’t need to look but he does anyway. He sees Kageyama, the strongest constant in his life. He sees Kageyama’s body curve backwards, head arched back and piercing blue eyes trained on him. He sees Kageyama’s hands, in slow-motion, sending the ball to Hinata like he’s done time and time again. Hands that have sent him countless balls, hands that have set perfect combos, hands that are the brain of the team. Hinata feels like he’s stuck in this moment staring at Kageyama’s hands forever, and a part of him doesn’t want it to ever end. He wants to be here until the day he dies.------------5 times Hinata notices Kageyama’s hands + 1 time Kageyama notices Hinata’s hands
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 6
Kudos: 133
Collections: kagehina





	the time slipped through my hands

**_one._ **

“What are you doing?” 

Hinata tilts his head to the side and stares at Kageyama on the gym floor. Kageyama is doing push-ups, except he’s balancing on the pads of his fingers instead of keeping his palms flat on the ground. 

“I’m doing finger push-ups, boke,” Kageyama replies without looking up.

“What’s that? How do you do that? Why don’t you do just normal push-ups? How many can you do?”

Kageyama huffs in annoyance and continues his push-ups, pointedly still not looking at Hinata. “It’s strength training for my fingers.”

Hinata’s eyes go wide. “Woaaah!!” A wave of white-hot competitiveness washes over Hinata and he drops down on the floor, forgetting to even take off his bookbag. He tries to mimic Kageyama’s position, straight arms balanced on his fingertips, and drops down in a push-up, except his hands give out and his entire body weight collapses on his curled fingers.

Kageyama finally looks over at Hinata and scowls. “Boke. You’re going to hurt yourself. Your form is shit, by the way.”

With wounded pride, Hinata crawls back to a sitting position and watches Kageyama continue the repetitive movements. He stares at Kageyama’s hands, the way his fingers bend and flex against the hardwood, the curve of his palms and angle of his wrists. Hands strong enough to maintain the full weight of his lean body and precise enough to toss a ball to the exact point of Hinata’s downward swing.

“Oi, stop staring at me,” Kageyama snaps at Hinata. Hinata flushes as if he’s been caught doing something inappropriate and shakes his head out of his thoughts. 

“I’m going to learn how to do finger push-ups, and one day I’ll be able to do more than you. Just you wait and see!”

“Sure,” Kageyama grunts with distaste. Hinata grins and scrambles to his feet, turning to the upperclassmen on the other side of the court.

“Suga-san! Can you toss for me? I want to practice my spikes!” 

**_two._ **

“Kageyamaaaa-kuuuun!” Hinata hollers as he skips toward Class 1-3. Kageyama pokes his head into the hallway and frowns at Hinata. 

“Don’t call me that.” Kageyama walks out of the classroom with his bag and Hinata skids to a stop in front of him.

“O-kayyy Kageyama. There, happy?” Hinata beams a smile up at Kageyama. “Ready for lunch?” Kageyama silently nods.

They walk together to their usual lunch spot in the schoolyard and sit down. Hinata immediately unwraps a box and scarfs down rice and pork as Kageyama goes to the vending machine to get a carton of milk. When Kageyama returns to sit next to Hinata, he fishes in his bookbag and pulls out a small pouch. From the pouch, he withdraws a nail file and begins his manicuring routine. Hinata watches the small sliver of metal scrape back and forth against Kageyama’s nails. 

“How often do you do that?” Hinata asks, mouth still full of food.

“Ugh, swallow your food before you talk. You’re so gross,” Kageyama says. Hinata gulps in embarrassment. After a moment, Kageyama answers, “I do this every day.” 

“Why?”

“My nails need to be short so they don’t get in the way of my sets.”

“Isn’t every day kind of a lot?”

Kageyama glares down at Hinata and turns his attention back to his nails. When Hinata really pays attention, he notices that Kageyama does have perfectly manicured nails. Neat and meticulous and precise, like everything Kageyama does.

In a great display of self-restraint, Hinata leaves Kageyama alone and eats the rest of his lunch in silence. He thinks about how it’s nice that they can actually share space now without immediately pulling hair and jumping at each other’s throats. Of course, they still bicker all the time, but their friendship has grown different dimensions over the last few months. Hinata hesitates— _ are  _ they friends? Kageyama is Hinata’s rival, and he’s also Hinata’s teammate and partner. Whenever Kageyama tosses a ball to Hinata, there’s a trust and intimacy that Hinata can’t quite describe. But what about outside of volleyball? They don’t hang out outside of school and practice, and they don’t text each other regularly like how Hinata texts Kenma. But they eat lunch with each other every day, and they always walk home together until their paths diverge and force them to split ways. Kageyama is, without a doubt, the person that Hinata spends the most time with.

Hinata makes sure he fully swallows his last bite of food before he opens his mouth. “Kageyama, can I ask you something?”

“Uh...sure?” In the amount of time it took for Hinata to finish eating, Kageyama still hasn’t finished filing his nails.

Hinata hesitates, unsure if he should proceed. “Are we friends?”

“Eh?” Kageyama glances at Hinata, then averts his eyes back to his hands. “I guess? We play together and see each other every day.”

“But what about outside of volleyball? Would we be friends if we didn’t play volleyball?”

“Why would we not play volleyball?”

“That’s not the point,” Hinata whines, “If we hadn’t met each other through volleyball, would we still be friends?”

“No,” Kageyama snorts, and Hinata finds it kind of endearing even though the answer is insulting. “You’re annoying as hell.”

Hinata pouts for a second, then he reaches out and pulls Kageyama’s hair.

Kageyama yells out in indignation, “What was that for, boke?”

Hinata sticks out his tongue instead of answering, and Kageyama returns the action and yanks Hinata’s hair. Hinata can feel Kageyama’s short nails scraping against his scalp, and it triggers a strange swoop in his stomach. But he’s more focused on winning this fight, so he ignores the sensation and tries to push off Kageyama’s hand, but Kageyama’s grip is firm so Hinata instead shoves Kageyama’s head. Soon, they’re rolling around in the grass and wrestling until a teacher shows up and gives them detention. 

Kageyama grabs Hinata’s wrist and drags him back to the classrooms, grumbling about how they’re going to miss practice this afternoon because of Hinata. Hinata only half listens because he’s too distracted by Kageyama’s hand on his skin. He stares at the long and slender fingers and perfect nails, and he decides to stop by the general store later to buy a nail file.

**_three._ **

Hinata wipes the sweat from his forehead and blinks, trying to focus. It’s already the third day of the Spring Tournament but he’s still not quite used to the blinding lights, the high ceiling, the synthetic court, the screaming crowds. He closes his eyes, trying to focus on the sensations that are familiar: the air salonpas, the sweat dripping down his skin, the weight of his feet on the ground, the electricity that he only feels during a match. 

When Hinata opens his eyes, he stares at the other little giant across the net. Barely taller than Hinata, Hoshiumi’s presence still feels oppressive. Hinata watches closely as Hoshiumi takes a running leap and serves, but the ball comes barreling over Hinata’s head before he can even jump, and the ball slams into the ground. The whistle blows, and the Kamomedai cheer squad chants.

“Don’t get worked up over every little thing!” Daichi calls out, and Hinata steels himself for the next serve. This time, Tanaka manages a receive, and the ball goes flying in the air. Hinata’s thoughts are firing at a mile a minute. How is he going to get past these blockers? What are his weapons? Height? Or speed? 

Hinata can use both.

“Gimme it here!” he yells to Kageyama, sprinting across the court in a split second. And then he flies.

A minus tempo boom jump, faster and higher than ever before. Hinata can feel the air pushing through his hair, the blood rushing in his ears, and he can see the whole world in front of him. He can’t see the ball but he trusts Kageyama, trusts his precision-perfect sets, and he swings his arm with every ounce of power he can muster. As he falls back down to the earth, he sees the ball shoot past the blockers at the speed of light and smash into Kamomedai’s court. Hinata turns to look at his partner with wide eyes.

“The ball came!” Hinata can still barely believe it. “Do you have the hands of god?!” 

He grabs Kageyama’s hands. They’re warm and a little damp with sweat but strong and sure and firm. These hands are holy.

Kageyama stares at Hinata’s hands clasped around his, and Hinata looks down and realizes he’s been holding Kageyama’s hands for a second too long. 

“Quit it,” Kageyama hisses, yanking away from Hinata’s grip. Kageyama’s face is flushed from body heat generated from all the running and jumping, and Hinata can’t stop staring at the pink tinge in Kageyama’s cheeks. Hinata shakes his head and snaps out of the trance. They have a game to win.

**_four._ **

This is it: the match Hinata has been waiting for these past three years. Center court at nationals. He takes a deep breath, trying to absorb the atmosphere, grounding himself in the sting of his palm from his last spike. Hinata knows that this moment may be his last.

It’s Karasuno’s third year at nationals and Hinata’s last tournament with the team. The final set of semi-finals against Itachiyami, with the score at 23-24 and Itachiyami at match point. The last three years have been beyond anything Hinata could have imagined as a wide-eyed, ambitious first year. He never could have imagined that fateful first day he walked into the gym, only to discover that his rival Kageyama was also attending Karasuno, that he would become part of a team that would teach him the meaning of found family. All the early morning and late night practices, long bus rides to matches, diving drills and team runs, never-ending rallies and hard-fought battles. He wouldn’t trade any of it for the world. 

This may be Hinata’s last game ever in a Karasuno uniform. Three years ago, he would have adamantly refused to acknowledge the possibility of losing, would have insisted that  _ of course they would win _ . But he’s older now and knows better. He knows the losses make him stronger. He knows he can’t win them all. So he takes a deep breath and commits every single detail to memory.

Hinata raises his arms to the net, ready to block. He hears the whistle blow and he doesn’t need to look back to see what’s there. He can feel, on pure instinct alone, Yamaguchi in the back with his signature jump floater. Tsuki to his left and Kageyama to his right. The second-years behind him. He can feel their presence and their energy like second nature.

Yamaguchi’s serve soars over the net and Itachiyami’s libero manages to receive the ball, but it’s shaky and their formation breaks. But they recover and send the ball flying back to Karasuno, and the rally continues. It lasts for what feels like an eternity. Hinata barely registers the sweat dripping into his eyes or the ache burning in his legs. He’s focused on one thing and one thing only: connecting with the ball. 

The ball soars toward Hinata and he can already see the scene play out. He’s done this a thousand times. Lower his center of gravity and receive the ball. Dash to the other end of the court as Kageyama tosses the ball. Jump, and then… 

Hinata feels like he’s flying—no, he’s frozen in mid-air. He doesn’t need to look but he does anyway. He sees Kageyama, the strongest constant in his life. He sees Kageyama’s body curve backwards, head arched back and piercing blue eyes trained on him. He sees Kageyama’s hands, in slow-motion, sending the ball to Hinata like he’s done time and time again. Hands that have sent him countless balls, hands that have set perfect combos, hands that are the brain of the team. Hinata feels like he’s stuck in this moment staring at Kageyama’s hands forever, and a part of him doesn’t want it to ever end. He wants to be here until the day he dies. 

And then the world comes rushing back to him, and he slams his palm into the ball. Perfectly positioned in front of him, like always. As if it was ever a question. As if Kageyama would ever let him down.

The moment doesn’t last. The blockers are right across the net with a well-timed jump, and the ball rebounds off their arms and falls to the ground. It’s over.

Hinata stares at the spot on the court where the ball fell. When he looks up, he sees Kageyama and their eyes meet. Hinata always thought the finale of his Karasuno volleyball career would be heartbreaking. And he  _ is _ sad, but in this moment, all he feels is fire. It’s another thing that’s been a constant these days—every time Hinata is near Kageyama he feels fire, because Hinata loves his team and he loves winning and he loves volleyball but there’s nothing in this world he loves more than hitting Kageyama’s tosses. 

**_five._ **

Hinata speeds through the streets, his bike weaving through the crowds of people.

“ _Ei!_ _Cuidado!”_

“ _ Desculpa! _ ” Hinata yells an apology over his shoulder. He follows the map on his phone and only gets lost once, but he manages to bring the customer’s meal in time and finally bikes home after a long day of food deliveries. 

A few blocks from his apartment, he passes by an electronics store and the TVs in the display window catch his eye. He skids to a halt and watches the screens. It’s the Volleyball Men’s World Championship, Japan versus France. His eyes immediately scan the court, and it doesn’t take long to find who he’s looking for. 

It’s Kageyama’s turn to serve. His face is focused and composed and he’s surrounded by a quiet air—Hinata fondly remembers it as his Calm-geyama face. Kageyama scores a service ace, and tinny cheers burst from the TV speakers. And then he scores another service ace, and then another, until he’s landed five service aces in a row. The crowds are going wild, but Hinata can’t make a single sound. Kageyama’s face fills a dozen TV screens at once, and Hinata feels like he can’t breathe. 

Hinata finally realized he was in love with Kageyama the second they lost at nationals his final year of high school. That was over a year ago, but he remembers like it was yesterday. The fire he felt— _ feels _ —for his teammate and partner and friend. He remembers the day of their graduation, after the ceremony, when they tossed their diplomas and uniform jackets aside to practice drills in the gym one last time. Dress shirts and slacks soaked with sweat, laying on the hardwood floor side-by-side and out of breath. In that moment, staring at the sweat pooling in Kageyama’s collarbones underneath his partially-unbuttoned shirt, Hinata nearly confessed his feelings, but he stopped himself at the very last second. What was the point? He was going to Brazil to learn beach volleyball, Kageyama was training with both a pro team and the Japanese national team, and they were parting ways. Like every day on their walk home from school when their routes diverged and they had to walk their separate paths, except this time Hinata was going halfway across the globe and there was no morning practice together the next day. 

People say that distance makes the heart fonder, and they’re probably right because a year and a half later and an ocean away, Hinata’s heart still yearns for Kageyama. He stands in the crowded street in the middle of Rio, watching Kageyama on the TV displays. The unmistakable way he bends and twists his body—Kageyama has only gotten bigger and stronger since graduation, and Hinata has been thankful for the plethora of professional photos. Hinata follows Kageyama’s hands (his hands have always been Hinata’s favorite thing about Kageyama) and the way his wrist snaps and connects with the ball. Kageyama’s hands look deceptively delicate—Hinata quietly laughs to himself when he remembers Kageyama’s meticulous manicures—but Hinata knows the true strength behind them. They’re probably stronger than they were the last time Hinata and Kageyama played together.

Hinata loses track of time and stands there in front of the TV display until the very end of the match. Japan won, as expected, with significant thanks to Kageyama. Hinata pulls out his phone to send a text.

_ Congrats!!!!!! _

He hesitates, and then sends another

_ I’ll still beat you on that world stage one day!! :)) _

**_+1_ **

Kageyama sits in his stall in the locker room, eyes closed, trying to calm the buzzing under his skin. Except he doesn’t  _ really _ want it to go away because it’s a buzzing he only feels when he’s on the court with Hinata. The day has finally come where he gets to play  _ against _ Hinata for the first time in over six years since that middle school tournament. Middle school feels like a lifetime away, and Kageyama can’t wait for the upcoming match. Volleyball hasn’t been the same without Hinata. Sure, Kageyama has gotten stronger and more skilled since graduation, but Hinata always brought out the best in him. And even though he’s on the other side of the net this time and Kageyama won’t be setting for him, Kageyama is still excited to share the court with Hinata again. 

Kageyama feels an indescribable energy the second Hinata steps onto the court. The buzzing under his skin intensifies, his fingers tingle, and it feels like coming home.

The current of energy rips through Kageyama’s veins the entire match, even when his team loses. He can’t bring himself to be upset about the loss—Hinata was, without a doubt, the star of the game, and Kageyama is okay with losing to Hinata just this once. The two teams line up at the center of the court to shake hands, and Kageyama finally gets to see Hinata up close for the first time.

“You made it,” he says, smirking, once he reaches Hinata. 

“Yeah. I’m here now.” Hinata beams up at Kageyama, still half a head shorter than him. Hinata’s skin is darker from his time in Brazil, but his eyes are the same golden brown and his dumb smile still shines like the sun. He is, in every sense of the word, Hinata Shōyō. Underneath the bickering and roughhousing and insults, Hinata’s presence has always felt like laying in a pool of sunlight on a summer morning. Their hands meet under the net and Kageyama feels the electricity ignite into a spark that sets his body ablaze. Kageyama stares at their joined hands and Kageyama wants to hold on forever, but they part to continue down the line of handshakes. 

After the match in the locker room, Kageyama wonders how his life could have been different if he wasn’t so scared. Kageyama has never been one to back away from a fight, but with Hinata, it’s different. He always felt a tightness in his chest whenever Hinata was around, and he thought it was the challenge of their rivalry until Hinata left for Brazil. When Hinata left, the tightness turned into an ache, and Kageyama finally realized it was  _ love _ . But it was too late, and Hinata was already gone. When he digs through his memories, he can’t remember a time he wasn’t in love with Hinata. Maybe at the beginning of first year, but after they discovered the combo quick attack, no one else could compare to Hinata. No one could hit his sets the way Hinata did, and no one could make him feel as energized and alive as Hinata did. It scared him more than anything. So he stayed quiet and learned to tuck the ache away in the hidden corners of his heart. 

_ He’s here now,  _ a voice in Kageyama’s head reminds him.

_ I already missed my chance,  _ he tells the voice,  _ It’s too late.  _ They’ve grown up and moved on.

When Kageyama finally resurfaces from his thoughts, he realizes that all his teammates have already left and he’s the only one left in the locker room. He hasn’t even taken off his jersey yet, so he peels it off and takes a quick shower before he changes into street clothes. He leaves the locker room and is surprised to see Hinata leaning against the wall and playing a game on his phone. He’s also changed out of his team uniform and is now wearing dark skinny jeans and a hoodie under a denim jacket. It’s different from the graphic tees and track pants Hinata used to wear all the time, and it unfortunately looks really good on Hinata. 

Alerted by the  _ snick _ of the door opening, Hinata looks up and sees Kageyama, and the same dumb smile from earlier breaks out on his face. It reminds Kageyama of the sunrise. 

“There you are!”

“What are you doing here?” Kageyama asks. 

“I was waiting for you!” Hinata bounces on the balls of his feet, still somehow full of energy. “Are you doing anything tonight? I thought we could go out for a drink and catch up! We haven’t gotten the chance to hang out since I got back from Rio.”

Kageyama hesitates. Getting drunk with Hinata could be a bad idea. “Don’t you want to celebrate your debut win with your team?”

“Oh.” Hinata’s smile falters for a split second, but he’s quick to mask it. Not quick enough to hide it before Kageyama notices though. “I’ll have other wins with them. But we don’t have to hang out if you don’t want to, since this is kind of last minute and you probably have plans.” 

“No, let’s get a drink,” Kageyama says quickly, “I just, uh, have to stop by my apartment to drop off my stuff.” Kageyama gestures to the gym bag hanging by his hip.

Hinata’s eyes light up. “Okay! Should I come along? Can I see your apartment?” 

Kageyama rolls his eyes at the assault of questions. “Sure. It’s a couple blocks from here. There’s an izakaya nearby, too.”

Hinata still has the boundless energy from when he was fifteen, talking a mile a minute about his time in Brazil as they walk. Kageyama is more than happy to let Hinata carry the conversation—it gives him time to try to quell the twisting in his stomach. By the time they reach the izakaya, Kageyama has already learned and then forgotten the names of Hinata’s roommate, coach, beach volleyball partners, and every other person Hinata met during his time in Rio. 

“What about you? What have you been up to these last few years?” Hinata asks after they order their drinks.

Kageyama shrugs. “Volleyball. The usual. Training with the V.League and the national team.” 

“Everyone already knows that,” Hinata says, leaning forward and staring intently at Kageyama. Kageyama feels the back of his neck start to burn. “How have you  _ been _ , other than volleyball?” 

Kageyama struggles to find an answer. He really doesn’t do much outside of volleyball. He doesn’t have many friends and finds social interactions unpredictable and exhausting. He rarely spends time with his teammates outside of practice and games—most of them have families to go home to, and he’s never made an effort to hang out with the others. 

“I’ve been alright, I guess,” he finally answers. “Volleyball keeps me pretty busy.”

“I bet.” Hinata leans against the back of his chair and takes a drink. “I’ve seen your games. Most of them, actually. You look really good.” He sheepishly smiles at Kageyama over the rim of his glass. 

Kageyama feels the blush creep up his face, and he tries to will it away. He instead focuses on Hinata’s fingers curled around his glass, the pink tinge in Hinata’s cheeks from the alcohol, the way the dim lighting makes Hinata’s bright hair look impossibly soft. Kageyama suddenly gets the urge to run his hand through Hinata’s hair, and he immediately scolds himself because  _ that’s creepy _ . 

“Thanks,” Kageyama mutters and then coughs awkwardly. “You looked good out there today, too.” Kageyama averts his gaze before he says something he regrets.

Hinata laughs, a soft rumbling from his chest. “I can’t believe I just got a real compliment from Kageyama.” 

“Don’t get used to it, boke. At least your receives aren’t complete garbage anymore.”

“Hey!” Hinata exclaims in indignation and then hiccups. 

A laugh escapes from Kageyama, and the tension breaks. “I see you still can’t hold your alcohol, though.”

Hinata crosses his arms and pouts. “It’s just because I’m smaller. Metabolism, or whatever.”

“That’s a pretty big word for you,” Kageyama teases.

“Like you’re one to talk. I recall a certain someone also failing first year English.” Hinata sticks out his tongue like they’re still fifteen.

“We turned out okay, though.” Kageyama smirks. “I still have more wins than you, though.”

“Only four!” Hinata counters, “I still have 1,096 wins!” 

“Sure, boke.” Kageyama’s smirk softens into a real smile. “Your balance on the court has gotten a lot better. You don’t fall over anymore when you receive.”

“Yeah! It’s from all that practicing on the beach! The sand is super unstable so I had to get really good at balancing my weight. To be honest, though, I really missed playing on a proper court.” Hinata launches into an in-depth explanation of the physics of beach volleyball, and Kageyama sits back and lets Hinata ramble.

They stay there into the night, going back and forth reminiscing about high school, talking about volleyball, and teasing each other. It feels familiar and easy. They lose track of the hours and their drinks, and they finally get kicked out at closing time and stumble into the street. 

“Woah,” Hinata giggles and then hiccups. He braces himself against the wall. “I’m kind of drunk.”

“You’re super drunk.” Without thinking, Kageyama reaches out and offers Hinata a hand. He meant to just help Hinata off the wall, but Hinata instead drapes an arm around Kageyama’s shoulders and staggers forward. “Boke, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Hinata looks up at Kageyama through his eyelashes and grins. “Good thing you’re here then. All tall and strong to help me walk home.” He takes a step and nearly falls over.

Kageyama sighs, ignoring the way Hinata’s skin against his makes his chest pound. “You’re not going to make it home like this. Come on, my apartment is closer. You can stay there while you sober up a bit.”

Hinata nods, so Kageyama practically carries Hinata the few blocks to his home and dumps him unceremoniously on the couch. Kageyama goes to the kitchen to get two glasses of water and when he comes back to the living room, he sees a half-asleep Hinata taking up the entire couch. He sets the water down and pokes Hinata between his eyes. 

“Oi, wake up boke. I never said you could sleep here.”

Hinata scrunches his nose in a way that is devastatingly adorable, and Kageyama reconsiders his declaration. 

“But I’m tiiiiiiired,” Hinata whines. Kageyama shoves Hinata into a sitting position to make room for himself on the couch, but the second he sits down, Hinata flops back over and lays in Kageyama’s lap. Kageyama tenses, unsure of what to do because he doesn’t want to take advantage of Hinata, but the weight of Hinata’s body on his feels warm and comfortable. Besides, Hinata was the one who decided to lay on top of him. Kageyama’s drunk enough to be okay with it. 

Kageyama reaches for the remote and turns on the TV. He scrolls through the channels and settles on a nature documentary, but he only partially pays attention to the movie. He’s too distracted by Hinata’s soft breaths ghosting his thigh, the lights from the TV splashed across his face, his eyelashes fluttering over closed eyes. After a while, Hinata falls asleep and his breaths are steady.

Once he’s sure that Hinata’s asleep, Kageyama brushes a lock of hair from Hinata’s forehead. Kageyama knows he’ll regret it in the morning, that this will only make his heart ache more the next day when he wakes up and Hinata isn’t there. But tonight, Kageyama feels bold. Tonight, Kageyama will give himself this. So he leans down and presses a kiss into Hinata’s hair. 

He dozes off to the movie, fading in and out of consciousness, fingers still idly playing with Hinata’s hair.

“Hey, Kageyama?”

Kageyama’s hand freezes and he snaps awake.  _ Shit,  _ he thinks to himself,  _ Has Hinata been awake this whole time? _ He yanks his hand away from Hinata’s head. 

“It’s okay, I kind of like it when you play with my hair.” Hinata mumbles.

Kageyama tentatively places his hand back in Hinata’s hair and lightly scratches his scalp.

Hinata hums with contentment. “Hey Kageyama?” he repeats again.

“Yeah?” Kageyama mutters.

“What do you think would have happened if I hadn’t gone to Brazil after graduation?” 

“I don’t know,” Kageyama answers truthfully, “Your receives would probably still be shit without all that beach volleyball.” He doesn’t say that he may have realized his feelings for Hinata before it was too late. 

Hinata snorts softly. “Yeah. Probably.” He goes quiet.

“What do you think would have happened?” Kageyama asks. Hinata doesn’t answer. 

A few moments pass. “Do you have any regrets? About the way things turned out?” Hinata asks instead.

“What kind of question is that?” Kageyama’s throat feels tight so he focuses on the documentary. He feels Hinata shrug, but Hinata stays silent. After a few minutes, Hinata speaks again.

“Kageyama?”

This time, Kageyama looks down. Hinata’s looking straight at him, eyes wide. Kageyama could stare into those eyes for an eternity. 

“I—” Hinata falters. He averts his eyes and stares at the TV instead. “I realized at the Spring Tournament our third year that I was in love with you.” Kageyama feels his heart stop. 

“I think I was always in love with you, at least a little bit,” Hinata continues, “By the time I figured it out, though, it was too late. You already had your plans and I was going to Brazil.” He laughs softly.

_ Too late _ . Kageyama forgets how to breathe.  _ Too late, too late, too late. He loved you and you were too scared and now it’s too late.  _ Hinata is still staring at the TV, refusing to look at Kageyama. And then Kageyama realizes he hasn’t said anything, and he should probably acknowledge Hinata’s confession, at the very least. 

“I…” Kageyama stares at a spot above Hinata’s ear. He doesn’t even know what to say. So he says the truth. “I was scared.”

Hinata turns his head and brown eyes meet blue. “You were scared? Of what?”

Kageyama gulps—his mouth feels bone-dry. “Of how much I loved you,” he whispers. 

Hinata’s mouth forms a little  _ o.  _ Kageyama doesn’t look away from Hinata’s eyes. 

“Kageyama,” Hinata says. It isn’t a question this time. “Do you still love me?”

They’re frozen in time. Eternity stretches out in front of them, and Kageyama can feel every single beat of his heart against his ribs. 

“Yes.”

Always a whirlwind, always moving fast, Hinata reaches up to Kageyama’s face, pulls him down, and kisses him before Kageyama has even processed the last ten seconds. Hinata pulls back and Kageyama blinks at him, still dazed. 

“Wh— What just happened?” Kageyama asks, his voice shaky.

Hinata tugs Kageyama’s hair, but he’s smiling. “I still love you too, Bakageyama.”

The sun breaks on Hinata’s face when he smiles, and Kageyama swears it’s shining light in the darkness. The rest of the world melts around them and Kageyama can only see Hinata beneath him—Hinata, who yells too loudly and gets easily excited and takes up space wherever he goes. Who is the living embodiment of sunshine and makes Kageyama feel invincible. His former teammate and soul-bonded partner. 

Tonight, Kageyama feels bold. Tonight, Kageyama will give himself this, because Hinata will still be there tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. So he leans down and kisses Hinata again, and this time he lets himself feel the softness of Hinata’s lips, the warmth of his mouth against Kageyama’s, the smooth skin of his cheek. 

They pull back, and Kageyama takes Hinata’s hand in his and laces their fingers together. He takes in the strength of Hinata’s hands from years of training, the calluses from thousands of spikes, the slender fingers and bruised wrists and scuffed knuckles. Ever since their first year in high school, everyone has praised their on-court chemistry, but when Kageyama looks down at their joined hands, he knows that he and Hinata will always be a chemical reaction that defies science. 

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from Portugal by Walk the Moon because bigspoonnoya brought it up in one of their kagehina fics and I haven't stopped thinking about how the lyrics perfectly fit kageyama and hinata post-timeskip and I will never recover (fic here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4107055)
> 
> also I managed to finally write a non-smutty fic ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


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